Page 52 of Deal Breaker
The softness of it catches me off guard. I think for a moment, watching the pines blur past outside my window. “The quiet. The space to breathe. Bigger cities always felt like they were swallowing me whole.”
When I look back at him, he’s watching me.
“And you?” I ask, shifting the question. “What’s kept you here? With everything you could’ve built somewhere else…why stay?”
His expression changes. It’s not a smile, exactly. More like the ghost of one. “Because here…people remember where you came from. They remember when you had nothing. Makes it harder to pretend you’re someone you’re not.” He takes a breath, swallows hard. “Leaving just never felt like the right answer,” he adds. “Not when we built Cove here. Not when this place made me who I am.”
I nod, feeling that. More than I want to admit. Before I can stop myself, I ask quietly, “So who are you now, Ford?”
His jaw flexes, but when he looks at me, there’s nothing guarded about it. “Trying to figure that out, June.”
The nickname lands soft but sharp, hitting right where it hurts. I swallow hard, my throat tight.
“I missed this,” I admit, barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“This. Us. Talking like this.”
His knuckles brush mine where our hands rest between the seats. Not quite touching. Almost. “Me too.”
TWENTY
Ford
The resort sprawls out in front of us, all timber beams and glass, tucked into the mountains, Whistler’s ski hills loom large above the hotel, snow glistening under the spring sun. The village is packed with tourists and locals alike, everyone eager to get a few last runs in before the season comes to a close.
I kill the engine in front of valet and glance over at Landyn. She’s staring out the windshield, absentmindedly twisting the rings on her fingers, probably not even realizing she’s doing it.
The drive up together was good. Better than good.
She was soft and open, letting me see pieces of her she’s had guarded since she came back to town. It’s the closest I’ve felt to her in a very long time. But now that we’re here, I can sense the walls being rebuilt, protecting the careful space that exists between who we were then and who we are now.
“You ready?” I ask, hoping to draw her back to me.
“Always.” She flashes me a quick smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
We get out of the car, and I hand the keys to the bellman,then we grab our bags from the backseat. Hers is small. Practical. That was always her—efficient, never trying to impress anyone.
The lobby is sleek but warm, all wood tones and floor-to-ceiling windows. The hum of quiet conversations reverberates off the stone floors as people move around us. We navigate through the room full of tourists—some still in robes from their spa treatments—conference guests, families, people with less intense schedules and less complicated backstories. At the front desk, the concierge smiles broadly and welcomes us to the hotel.
“We’re here for the Sustainability Summit. Winters, Cove Group,” I say, handing over my ID.
“Of course, Mr. Winters. We have two rooms reserved under your name. Side by side, as requested.”
I glance at Landyn. Her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t look at me. The concierge slides two key cards across the counter and Landyn takes both, handing one to me. When I take it, my fingers brush hers by accident—or maybe not. Either way, the jolt it sends through me is very real.
“This resort is beautiful,” she says as we head toward the elevators.
“Not just the resort,” I say, before I can stop myself. My eyes meet hers. She looks away, but she doesn’t call me on it.
We step into the elevator, alone now. The doors close with a soft thud. The tension? Not so soft.
“Let me guess,” she says, glancing up at me. “You’re thinking about schedules and panels and investor meetings.”
I smirk. “I’m thinking you’re trying very hard to keep this professional.”
“That’s because it is professional.”
